"Missing"
Such a strange word.
A nonexistent speck
screaming to be heard.
You can only see it
when you're not looking.
I see my mother cooking,
but I know she's not there.
Just for that, I pull my hair.
There's blood on the carpet.
She'd yell at me for that.
Not by weapons or combat,
but a little girl
pondering the word, "missing"
just too gripping.
I want to be my mother,
and my brother,
just anyone but me.
I wish I had the right
to say, "we."
I will always be here
counting the days
until I stop thinking,
"missing."
-
Author:
Screaming goat (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 24th, 2022 15:50
- Comment from author about the poem: I thought of this on one of my rabbit trails in my thoughts, so it may or may not make sense.
- Category: Forgiveness
- Views: 13
Offline)
Comments1
Interesting write, it calls out and has a longing to it. Well done
Thank you
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